


All wrapped up in him, too

by pianoforeplay



Series: QB 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-21
Updated: 2011-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen's a high school football player who gets a little too drunk at a party. His girlfriend's parents let him stay the night, but only if he shares the room with her brother. A little discovery happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All wrapped up in him, too

**Author's Note:**

> Though exact ages are never specified in the story, both participants are high school students and certainly less than 18 years of age. Initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/11971.html) on 8/13/08.

Mr. Carrington is an imposing figure at the best of times and, as he his now, standing tall in the doorway of Brandy's house, the hall light throwing his form into a dark silhouette, Jensen thinks the guy really should've been a linebacker. Missed his calling on that one, MBA from Brown or Duke or where-the-hell-ever and his usual gentle nature be damned.

Jensen tries to force his legs to work properly and sets one in front of the other as he makes his way up the driveway, Brandy's hand small but firm in his grasp.

"You two know what time it is?"

"Yes, Sir," Jensen replies, shoving his nerves aside and focusing intently on not slurring his words. "I'm sorry, I know I should've--"

Mr. Carrington interrupts him swiftly with a gruff sound. "You're drunk."

Jensen shuts up fast and he feels Brandy's grip tighten. _Shit._

"No, Daddy, he's just really tired," she says and Jensen silently thanks Christ that she's not as drunk as he is, that she clearly still has some ability to think straight and think _fast_. Not that her father's about to buy any of it.

Mr. Carrington's eyes narrow and he beckons Jensen closer. Jensen feels like a lamb going to slaughter, but the look Brandy gives him is slightly reassuring, at least right up until he feels Mr. Carrington's large face loom in and _wow_ , it's really a good thing that Brandy so obviously got her looks from her mother. Jensen cringes and stays absolutely still, holding his breath. The large bear of a man inhales audibly and Jensen knows instantly that he's busted. He can put on as good an act as Robert freakin' DeNiro, but there's no _way_ that he doesn't reek of Corona.

But, when Mr. Carrington pulls back again, he doesn't look pissed off, just... a little wary, maybe.

"Tell me you didn't drive here, Jensen."

"No, Sir," he says honestly, his face feeling overly warm and he's not sure if it's the alcohol or embarrassment or both.

"I did," Brandy says at the same time and Jensen can feel her look at him before she continues. "I drove. I'm not-- I didn't have anything, Dad. Just some soda."

Mr. Carrington looks over at his daughter, eyes narrowed, and Jensen doesn't even try to piece together the silent conversation that goes on between them. Mostly because he's sure he doesn't want to know and he's got other things to be worrying about right now anyway. Like how the hell he's supposed to drive himself home and not end up with the his car wrapped around a tree.

He isn't given too much time to think on it anyway as Mr. Carrington places one large paw on Jensen's shoulder and tugs him into the foyer. Surprised, Jensen stumbles over the threshold and he hears the door click closed behind him around the same time that Brandy finally lets go of his hand.

"I think you should stay the night here, son," Mr. Carrington tells him in a voice that, even drunk, Jensen can tell means the man's not exactly thrilled by the idea. Blinking, Jensen tries to play that over again in his mind, wondering when it'll fit together to actually make sense. His girlfriend's _father_ is actually inviting him to stay the night? After Jensen brought her home _well_ past curfew? And is also quite obviously completely trashed?

The confusion must show on his face because he feels Mr. Carrington's hand squeeze his shoulder and steer him toward the stairs. "Don't get ahead of yourself there, boy. Plenty of space in Matt's room for you."

Jensen still feels like he should protest. It's not that he has anything against sharing a room with Brandy's little brother, but already he's imagining the look on his father's face when he shows up at his own house the next morning, nine hours late and hungover.

"Can't you just drive me?" he asks, but his voice is a little weak, a little pathetic because he knows just as soon as the question's left his mouth that it's a dumb idea. It's after two in the morning and Mr. and Mrs. Carrington doubtlessly want to get to bed as badly as he does and if they take him home, he'll have to deal with his father _now_ while _drunk_ and he'd really rather handle Satan himself than deal with that.

Not to mention, he'd have to come back for his car at some point and that'd just add to the awkwardness on all sides.

Mr. Carrington gives him an oddly warm smile and helps lead him up the stairs. "It's only one night, Jensen. Don't worry about it."

Except Jensen can't _not_ worry about it. Not with the image of his father loud and furious hovering in the forefront of his mind. He'll be lucky if he gets to see Brandy ever again after tonight. Which, really, isn't _horrible_. It's not like she's the love of his life; hell, they've barely even kissed at all. He likes her company and he can get that at school since they're both in the same math class, but it's the principle of the thing. He has _pride_ to worry about here.

Still, the image of his father's red face won't leave his mind. Not until Mr. Carrington's gently easing open Matt's bedroom door and pushing Jensen inside. Through the darkness, Jensen can see the figure on the bed shift under the covers and roll over.

"Dad?" The kid's voice is groggy, clearly still half asleep and Jensen feels the embarrassment and dread move over in his gut to make room for a fresh dose of guilt.

"Hey, buddy," Mr. Carrington says, flicking on the light switch and Jensen watches Matt lift a bare arm out from beneath the covers to shield himself from the light. "Think you'd mind sharing with Jensen here tonight?"

Matt blinks and looks over toward Jensen, their eyes meeting for a split second before Jensen looks down at the floor, his face flushing once again.

"Uhm," he hears the guy say, sounding about as confused as Jensen still feels. "No, I guess not."

Jensen hears more movement, but he doesn't dare look up and doesn't need to. A moment or two later and Mr. Carrington's in front of him again, one warm hand on his shoulder. "Just sleep it off, son," he tells him and Jensen really thinks the guy is being way too nice. Has to be a catch somewhere. Eventually. "I'll tell Brandy you said goodnight."

"Uh, yeah," Jensen mutters oh-so eloquently. "Great. Thanks."

He's still frowning at the back of the door once Mr. Carrington's left, confusion slowly morphing into a building headache when Matt's voice catches his attention.

"Hey, man, you okay?"

Jensen startles slightly and turns to look at the kid before nodding. And he doesn't really know why keeps thinking of Matt as a kid. Matt's barely a year younger than Brandy, a junior at their school. He's not into football like Jensen, but he's not unpopular. Jensen's pretty sure he's on student council or the debate team or something like that, he's not sure. Not a jock, though. They don't run in the same circles.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he finally answers and then looks away again, down at a clear spot of carpet. "I'll just, uh... you got a blanket or something?"

He hears Matt laugh a little and looks up again, confused, to see the guy shaking his head. "I got a big enough bed, man. Not a big deal."

Something prickly catches in Jensen's throat then and he swallows it back, glances over at the bed Matt's offering to share with him for the night and the guy's right, it's easily big enough for the both of them. Queen-sized.

Har-har.

For about the millionth time that evening, Jensen swears his face is on fire, but he just nods quickly and heads over, refusing to think about anything aside from getting in and going to sleep so he can deal with all the fall-out in the morning.

Matt doesn't follow, but Jensen can feel the guy's eyes on him.

"I'm, uh..." he hears Matt start, but Jensen doesn't look over, just sits on the edge of the bed and toes his shoes off. "I'm gonna go get you some water. I'll be back in a few."

Jensen only gives a grunt in reply, knowing full well he's not being particularly polite about any of this, but his brain feels like it's swimming inside his skull and his gut is all twisted up like a wrung rag inside him. He's mortified on a number of levels, the only consolation being that he's at least managed to not vomit all over himself or anyone else. Yet.

That thought alone is enough to make his stomach roll in warning and he bends forward, groaning before the wave passes. Weakly, he raises his arms and slips his shirt off, letting it fall over his shoes before he drops onto his side, head cradled in one of Matt's pillows. He's struck by the smell, how it's nothing like what Brandy's hair smells like, but isn't entirely like his own either. Musky and dark, but not gross, a hint of cologne and shampoo that isn't too overwhelming. His eyes slip closed and he feels himself start to drift off, the sweet comfort of unconsciousness creeping over him.

Except two seconds later he feels a cool hand on his forehead. His eyes blink open to see Matt's sideways face and a small glass of water.

"'m fine," he grunts and closes his eyes.

"Dude, just take a few drinks," Matt tells him, that hand moving from Jensen's forehead to his shoulder, nudging gently, but insistently. "Trust me, you'll thank me tomorrow."

Jensen's frown deepens and he wants to ask just how much experience Matt's had with intoxicated people and whether his dad knows, but that would require way more effort than Jensen's currently in the mood to excert.

Grumbling, he lets Matt push him into a sitting position and he takes the glass. Any kind of liquid whatsoever is just about the last thing he wants right now, but, despite how much he's protesting, he knows Matt's right. If he wants to have _any_ hope of waking up the next day without a brain-splitting hangover, he needs water. A lot of it.

So, he drinks, breathing through his nose after each swallow, his eyes closed, the liquid cold and blissfully tasteless. He feels the bed dip beside him when Matt takes a seat, but doesn't look over until the glass is empty.

"Thanks," he says, his voice a little hoarse, hand still cupping the now-empty glass and shoulders hunched. Matt doesn't say anything, but a moment later Jensen feels the guy's hand on his shoulder. It catches him by surprise, but he doesn't pull away, not even when that hand slides up and around to the back of his neck, strong, but gentle fingers rubbing the muscles there that he hadn't even realized had gone tense.

When Matt finally speaks again, Jensen notices that his voice is little lower, a littler rougher. "Feel better?"

Jensen's stomach pitches and swirls again, but it's different from before, an unsettling heat joining in on the fun as he takes a shaky breath. Matt's hand doesn't leave the back of his neck, rubbing slowly and, without thinking, Jensen feels himself lean under the pressure, sinking into the sensation. There's something prickling just under his skin, a dull electricity that he's trying hard not to focus on even as it spreads through him, making his breath become shallower.

He feels Matt shift beside him and he still keeps his eyes closed, his body slowly relaxing further as Matt's hand moves from the back of his neck over one shoulder, kneading the muscle.

Despite the headache, Jensen can't remember the last time he's felt this relaxed and maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's that he's finally just sitting down in a quiet room for the first time in hours. Or maybe it's Matt's hands, strong and sure over his skin, rubbing the tension out of every muscle bit by bit.

Whatever it is, Jensen knows he doesn't want it to stop.

"Must've been a good party," Matt murmurs from behind him and Jensen can only answer with a soft sound, his head barely moving in a nod as he presses back. He's still cradling the glass between two hands, but it's not much of a grip at all, his entire body feeling like a limp noodle that's only managing to stay upright because Matt's hands are holding him there.

Really, he can't remember much of the party at the moment. Not because of the alcohol, but because it'd been just like every other party he's gone to in the past couple years, full of his friends and teammates and cheerleaders and booze and completely devoid of adult supervision. It hadn't been spectacular, but it hadn't been bad either. He'd had Brandy on his arm and a drink in his hand and the music had been loud and the jokes crass. He hadn't gone out of obligation, but if he's honest with himself, he hadn't gone simply because he'd wanted to either. It's just what he does now. It's part of the deal. Part of being on the team, the _leader_ of the team.

Matt's hands slide lower, brushing smoothly down his back and sides and Jensen becomes suddenly aware of just how little he's wearing and he tenses instinctively. He can tell that Matt notices, those broad, gentle hands stilling instantly. Waiting.

"You okay?"

Jensen has to think about it, has to run the question over in his mind, try to make sense of the words through the haze of alcohol that continues to muddle all sense he has left, his temple pounding. But, all he can really focus on is the feel of Matt's hands and how much he doesn't want them to stop. It shakes him, sends another tremor through him that he knows Matt must feel.

He doesn't know how long it is before he manages a nod, but he knows he gets there, feels it distantly, gets confirmation in the slight twitch of Matt's fingers as they slowly move over him again.

"Want me to stop?"

It doesn't take long to answer that time, a light shake of his head and he's rewarded with those hands sliding up his back again, curving over his shoulders. Another quiet groan pushes past his lips and he feels Matt hesitate briefly. He feels good all over, loose and completely relaxed except for the low, dull throb of his head.

Frowning just a bit, he lifts his hand to rub at his forehead and he feels Matt shift behind him again.

"Headache?" Matt's voice is quiet and warm and Jensen's defenses are completely down. He nods weakly, dropping his hand away only to feel Matt's hands move up from his shoulders to his temples, strong fingers pressing there, circling slowly. It feels like heaven and his body slumps further as he sinks into it.

He has no idea how much time passes before Matt's nudging at his shoulder again, disrupting him from his beautiful half-doze. "C'mere," he hears and he looks back over his shoulder to see Matt sitting against the headboard, legs straight out in front of him, face open and inviting. And Jensen has no idea where exactly he's supposed to go, but he ignores the way his stomach twists again and curls his legs under him, moving onto his knees to crawl over. "Lay down," Matt instructs him and pats his cotton-covered thigh.

There are bells going off in Jensen's mind now, quiet, dulled sirens letting him know, in case he's failing to notice, just how totally gay this is getting. He's about to put his head in some guy's _lap_. And not just any guy either, his girlfriend's _brother_ for Christ's sake.

But it's... it's not like that, he's pretty sure. It's not like he's about to suck the guy, not like he's even _thinking_ about sucking the guy. Or kissing him. Or imagining him naked. Matt's just trying to help out and it's actually working and if this is the only kind of comfort in the whole fucked up night, Jensen's taking it.

He's taking it.

He moves finally, limbs working clumsily beneath him as he lays back, perpendicular to Matt, legs dangling off one side of the bed as he rests his head on Matt's thigh. He blinks his eyes open and and sees Matt's face again and notices that Matt's actually a pretty good-looking guy. He and Brandy have the same color eyes, but Matt's are a little wider somehow and the slope of his nose is more sublte. And then Matt's fingers are on his temples again and Jensen can't keep his eyes open anymore, letting them slide shut as he lets out a slow breath of surrender as he wonders how Matt's lips can look so much fuller than Brandy's.

He drifts in and out of consciousness, riding a slow, undulating wave of unbelievable comfort. Matt's fingers never leave his temples, rubbing slow and soothing circles, the headache drifting away almost completely. It's better than any drug he's taken, more effective and definitely soothing, making him completely boneless.

Matt shifts again, strong muscles flexing under Jensen's head. He gives a quiet groan of protest, not wanting to ever move again as he blinks his eyes open. His breath catches when he notices that Matt's bent forward, the guy's floppy hair hanging over his eyes, just inches away from Jensen's. And then he feels the soft brush of lips over his forehead and he stops breathing entirely.

When Matt pulls away again, he's smiling softly, a hand smoothing over where his lips had just been. "That enough or do you want more?"

It hits him what the guy's asking. It's not about a massage, though that's a good out if he chooses to take it. He blinks, but doesn't move otherwise, his breath quickening and body tensing, though he still feels completely relaxed. It doesn't feel like fear so much, but anticipation or like Matt's woven some kind of spell around him and Jensen doesn't ever want to break it.

It takes awhile for him to say anything at all, to manage to pool together enough brain cells to form one coherent word and, when he gets there, it almost surprises him. "More," he whispers and watches as Matt's face slides into a slow smile.

Then there's more shifting and Jensen gives another grunt, still unwilling to move. But, he's quieted by the touch of Matt's fingers along his neck, strong thighs lifting him higher and then those lips brushing his cheek. It's still light, tentative and before he can think on it much, they move, sealing over his mouth, dry and soft. It's nothing like kissing Brandy and Jensen can feel a faint hint of stubble where he's so used to smooth, soft skin. But, it's still so relaxed, Matt's lips barely moving over his, nudging, no urgency at all, and Jensen lets his eyes slip shut again as he surrenders to it.

He's barely aware of his own arm lifting, fingers finding Matt's hair and holding as his lips part to let out a breath. The angle is awkward, but he still can't bring himself to move, especially not when he feels Matt's tongue slide in, feels his own against it, so natural and so easy. Jensen's kissed girls before, more than a few and he's liked it okay, but this feels different. Completely, entirely different.

Matt pulls away again and Jensen's eyes snap open, wide and questioning. It scares him how much he wants this, how he desperately doesn't want to stop. But, Matt's only sliding down from the headboard, stretching out along the mattress and tugging at Jensen's arm and Jensen goes with it, relief flooding through him, nerves buzzing yet again with anticipation. Matt's skin is warm against his own, Jensen half draped over him, shaking a little despite how relaxed he feels and Matt never stops kissing him, their tongues moving in tandem, quiet moans slipping from both of them.

When he pulls away, it's only to catch his breath, his lips already feeling swollen and sore. Matt only grins beneath him and tugs, sending Jensen falling forward, landing clumsily with one of Matt's thighs between his legs.

"Oh God," he groans, eyes slipping shut again as his hips rock forward of their own accord. He's answered by a deep chuckle and his head ducks into the bare curve of Matt's neck. The friction inside his jeans is just on the right side of painful as he grinds against Matt's thigh, feels Matt's hands on his back, unmistakably encouraging.

Beneath his lips, he can feel the quick beat of Matt's pulse and his tongue darts out, tasting the skin there.

"Want me-- want me to suck you?"

The question startles him, but it's not nearly as surprising as the answer his body gives, heaving forward, teeth sinking into the soft skin just under Matt's jaw.

And Matt seems to take that as a yes, squirming beneath Jensen's weight, a hand tight on his upper arm, pushing him over as Matt bends down. Jensen feels himself balancing precariously on the edge of the mattress and Matt's fingers work at the front of his jeans, tugging the top button and pulling the zipper down. Jensen's head tips back and his eyes close, the room spinning dangerously around him when he feels Matt's hand push down, fingers slipping under the cotton of his boxers to pull his dick free

" _Fuck_ ," he whispers hoarsely, body shuddering from that touch alone and he opens his eyes again and looks down. The back of Matt's head blocks his view, but it hardly matters when he feels a quick swipe of what has to be Matt's tongue along the head and then tight, wet lips surrounding him. It's all he can do to keep back his moans, eyes shutting tight as he drops his hand into Matt's floppy, brown hair, gripping as his hips try their hardest to not just thrust forward.

Jensen doesn't know much about sucking cock himself and he's only had two blowjobs from girls ever in his life, but this feels completely different. There's no finesse and the brief, fleeting scrape of Matt's teeth at one point makes him hiss and tense all over. But, it feels like a heartfelt apology when that hot mouth envelops him again and he swears he's sliding right down the back of Matt's throat.

It doesn't take long, but then Jensen's lost all concept of time anyway. Pressure builds at the base of his spine and every muscle in his body starts to tighten. He gives a useless tug at Matt's hair in warning, and Matt has just enough time to pull back, firm hand jacking him before he buckles and comes, spurting into Matt's fist and over his own stomach and chest, his entire body shaking with it.

When he manages to open his eyes again, Matt's still touching him, every stroke sending a tiny aftershock all through him before he lets go, come-slick hand gently wrapping around Jensen's side.

"Ngh." It's all he can say, all he can _think_ and he'd feel more embarrassed about that if not for Matt's quiet laughter.

Matt tugs at him again and Jensen somehow manages to gather enough strength to not be completely useless and shifts over at the prompting, relaxing back when he doesn't have to worry about falling off the edge of the bed. His jeans are still splayed open, his dick hanging out and he reaches down to tuck himself back into his shorts before wiggling out of his jeans. It takes more effort than it should, but Matt helps him out and they both collapse back onto the bed.

"That was pretty hot," Matt says from beside him and Jensen groans in agreement, his head swirling comfortably. His headache's completely gone now and all he can think about is how good he feels, limbs loose and utterly relaxed.

And there's something else, something lingering just at the back of his mind, something he doesn't have the energy to name or explain as he feels something warm and soft drape over him and he drifts into sleep.

When he wakes up again, he's on his stomach, face smashed into a pillow that doesn't smell like his own, his head throbbing quietly. The sun filters in through the window and he sits up, groaning, the heel of one hand pushing away the sleep from his eyes. The room is empty, but it doesn't take Jensen long to remember where he is and how he got there.

It takes only a second longer for him to remember everything else.

The sound of the door opening makes him jump and he grips the blanket tighter as Matt slides into the room.

"Hey," Matt says, friendly as always, like the night before never even happened. "Feelin' alright?"

Jensen nods, suddenly second-guessing himself, wondering if he'd just dreamed it all. Except, one glance downward at himself, come smeared and dried on his chest and he knows that it's real. All of it.

Matt seems to notice and laughs again and Jensen glances up sharply, amazed by how it rocks him. It's not anger he feels or fear, but clear and acute arousal. He recognizes it like it's something old and familiar being suddenly revealed and it scares the shit out of him.

"You should probably get downstairs," Matt tells him and Jensen recognizes it for the out that it is. He nods again, stiffly and slips off the bed, mutely climbing into his clothes. He can feel Matt watching him and he wonders if this is cowardice or survival, wonders if they'll ever talk about it again.

He barely meets Matt's eyes as he pushes past him, but he can't resist it entirely, their eyes locking briefly. And, what Jensen sees there isn't disgust or silent accusations, but something else. Something he's still not sure he understands.

But, maybe he wants to find out.

 **end.**


End file.
